Elizabeth decided to show Owen's videos to her husband and son.
An hour after Sarah had shown her the videos, Edward arrived home from work, since it was Saturday, he didn't work that late. Then Elizabeth called James, Owen's older brother, to come over to the house.
"Why? I just got back from work and I'm with Emily," James said on the other end of the phone.
"It's important. Emily can come too," Elizabeth replied firmly, without leaving room for argument.
"…"
After a few seconds, James answered, "Fine, I'll be there in five minutes."
Fortunately, they lived close by.
Within ten minutes, the whole family was gathered in the living room. James had arrived with Emily, his wife, a woman of impeccable manners, inquisitive eyes, and a quiet elegance that contrasted with the tension in the air.
James resembled Elizabeth. Sharp features, neatly combed ash-blond hair, green eyes. But his expression was very different from that of his kind mother. His face carried a constant analytical look, and the coldness in his gaze aligned him more with Edward, his father.
Owen and Sarah shared Edward's jet-black hair.
"What is it you want to show us?" James asked, blunt as always, his brow slightly furrowed, his tone already tinged with irritation from the uncertainty.
Sarah, still brimming with emotion though noticeably calmer, settled into one of the armchairs, arms crossed and wearing a faint smirk, something between irony and self-assurance.
"You're going to be surprised," she said, looking at her older brother with that mix of defiance and annoyance that his rigidity always provoked. "And don't act tough, I know this will matter to you. I promise I won't laugh if I see a tear slip out."
"Sarah, I'm not in the mood for games. What is this about?" James asked, narrowing his eyes, impatience plain on his face.
"Just wait and see," Elizabeth interjected, her voice soft but firm.
She turned on the television and, without another word, connected the laptop. The YouTube interface appeared on screen. Just a couple of clicks, and the video began.
First came The Black Hole.
The grayish image of a soulless office filled the room. Silence. Then Owen's face appeared.
Edward was taken aback to see his son. The last time he had seen him, Owen had seemed out of his mind, high, unaware of where he even was. Now he was playing a weary office worker, crushed by monotony.
James, arms crossed, furrowed his brow but didn't look away from the screen.
Sarah sat tense, watching her father and brother's reactions more closely than the film itself.
Emily stared openly, astonished. Of course she knew her brother-in-law. James always complained about Owen, criticized him.
But even then, beneath all the harsh judgments, Emily had noticed something: worry. There was a kind of love behind it all a difficult and rigid love, but love nonetheless.
When it ended, Elizabeth didn't pause. She immediately played Paperman.
The delicate music, the romantic aesthetic, the black-and-white tones. Owen at a train station, papers fluttering around him. A beautiful girl by his side.
A silent story, yet alive in every glance and gesture. And once again, Owen was there.
Surprise began to flicker, faintly, across Edward's face. James shifted in his seat, no longer keeping his arms crossed.
And finally, Paranormal Activity.
The change was immediate. The living room tightened with the trailer's unsettling atmosphere.
Owen spoke. His voice filled the room for the first time in a long while.
He was no longer the lost young man of before. He was an actor with presence. A leading man.
The skillful editing, the rhythm of the trailer, the screams, the glances between characters, the ambiance, and at the end, the release date at Palm Springs Festival.
The silence that followed when the video ended was long.
Edward leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the dark screen.
James rested his arms on his legs, thoughtful, wearing an expression that blended disbelief with restrained pride.
It was clear something had shifted inside each of them. It wasn't just about Owen's return.
It was about how he had done it, and the inevitable guilt beginning to settle in, slowly, in different ways for each of them.
James had a knot in his throat. An uncomfortable feeling of having fought the wrong enemy.
For years, he hadn't supported Owen. He never believed that adolescent dream of "being an actor" would go anywhere. It wasn't out of cruelty but conviction: he saw no seriousness in him. Everything was parties, bad grades, irresponsibility. Every step Owen took seemed to confirm the idea that he had no future, that he was a lost cause.
But now this so-called failed actor was starring in a feature film that would be shown at one of the most important festivals in the United States: the Palm Springs International Film Festival.
James wasn't a film expert, but he wasn't ignorant either. He knew this wasn't a school festival or a community screening. It was a real event. A major one.
And on top of that, Owen had also starred in two short films. In one of them, The Black Hole, his name even appeared as writer and producer. It wasn't luck. It was work.
For Edward, guilt had another flavor. More bitter and deeper.
He had tried to "fix" his son the hard way. He had thrown him out. Let him hit rock bottom. And though that decision seemed to have worked, it didn't feel like a victory. It felt like abandonment.
Like letting go of his son's hand in his darkest moment, only to watch him rise again without help.
Was that something to be proud of?
"What are you thinking about?" Elizabeth asked gently, finally breaking the silence.
It took Edward a few seconds to answer. He kept staring at the screen as if still trying to process everything they had just watched.
"I never thought he was capable of something like this. Not after everything," he said at last.
James let out a long sigh, rubbed his forehead, and leaned back on the couch.
"Neither did I," he admitted bluntly. "I thought he'd end up in jail. Or worse. And now he has… what? A feature film in an international festival?"
No one replied. They didn't need to.
"You can't pull that off without being focused and clean. The Owen we just saw isn't the same one who wrecked this house and got high," James added after a moment.
His words were harsh, but true.
Sarah lowered her gaze, her fingers fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater.
Edward closed his eyes for an instant. When he opened them again, the hardness was gone.
"Do you think… we should call him?" he asked, not with the authority of a father, but with the hesitation of someone afraid of not being heard.
"I don't think he'll want to see us," Sarah said, lifting her head, her voice honest. "We know him. Owen's always been stubborn and proud. We kicked him out, left him alone when he needed us most… and now that he's got something, we come looking for him? He's going to feel like we only value him because he succeeded."
Elizabeth pressed her hands against her lap.
"That's not how it was," James muttered, as if he needed to justify what they had done. "Dad and Mom didn't throw him out on a whim. They just didn't know what else to do… And besides, it helped. Stopped him from being dependent, from having everything handed to him on a silver platter. It made him focus."
But neither Edward nor Elizabeth nodded.
Because, deep down, they knew it wasn't that simple. Maybe what Owen had done was born from the darkest depths of his downfall, but that didn't make it any less true that, when he needed help, no one had been there for him.
The silence stretched on, and that was when the doorbell rang.
Emily rose gently, feeling the heavy atmosphere, as if any sudden movement could shatter the fragile layer of silence covering the family.
"I'll get it," she said, without waiting for a reply.
She left the living room and walked to the front door, turned the doorknob calmly, and opened it.
And then she froze.
Her expression went still for an instant, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. Not out of fear, nor discomfort, but because of the strange coincidence.
There, standing at the door in an oversized black T-shirt, his face calm, was Owen.
"Owen…" Emily murmured, surprised.
Owen gave a faint, slightly uneasy smile. "Hi. I know this is unexpected. I just want to talk to my family."
Emily looked at him for another second, as if unsure what to say, as if there were too many questions to ask. She almost mentioned the trailer, the shorts, Palm Springs. She was tempted, but held back, she knew this wasn't the moment.
"Come in, you've arrived at a… strangely fitting moment," Emily said, inviting him inside.
"Fitting?" Owen repeated, not fully understanding.
"You'll see," she replied, turning to lead him into the house.
They walked down the hallway in silence until Owen stepped across the threshold of the living room.
Every eye in the room turned to him at once. Edward, still seated, his face carrying a rare sorrowful look. James, who had stood up, arms crossed and lips pressed tight. Elizabeth, sitting on the sofa with her hands still resting on her knees, her expression downcast. Sarah, curled up beside her mother, hugging her legs.
They all stared at him as if they had just seen a ghost, and the silence deepened.
'What's going on here…?' Owen thought, bewildered by such a strange reception.
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